


Love Without Question

by teatales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aromantic Hermione Granger, Black Hermione Granger, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Platonic Relationships, Post-Canon, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22734682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatales/pseuds/teatales
Summary: Hermione Jean Granger knew a lot of things. She knew about dental hygiene, and about books, and the best spots to hide in the library when teased. She knew that in all the stories she read and watched on the television and all the people she knew grew up and found someone to spend the rest of their life with.But her prince never came, and Hermione was alone while everyone around her seemed to be moving ahead or moving away. She didn't understand.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Comments: 32
Kudos: 115





	Love Without Question

**Author's Note:**

> Happy aro spec awareness week, y'all! This is a shorter version of my ongoing project to write an aro Hermione AU encompassing all of canon. But then Good Omens and capitalism took over my life, so no guarantees on when that will be finished. 
> 
> As always I am grateful to my dearest B for answering my questions, putting up with my rants, being patient as I submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, and for having a handsome face that I'm privileged to kiss <3 
> 
> cw for general amatonormativity/internalised arophobia, insecurity, etc. that Hermione (and the rest of us) have to work through
> 
> Title from Best of Intentions by The Spook School (RIP)

Hermione Jean Granger knew a lot of things. She knew about dental hygiene, and about books, and the best spots to hide in the library when teased. She knew that in all the stories she read and watched on the television and all the people she knew grew up and found someone to spend the rest of their life with. Hermione knew both her peers and adults around her found her serious (overbearing, know it all, freak) but secretly? She loved fairytales. True love and magic and spell-breaking kisses and most important, happily ever afters. At the mature age of ten and with her classmates starting to gossip and giggle about who they like-liked, she figured her soulmate was just around the corner. He must be.

She tried so hard to fit in, she really did. Hermione learnt quickly that her peers didn’t enjoy being corrected on grammar, nor did they want to hear fun facts about polysyllabic words that she had discovered when reading the encyclopaedia. Sometimes things still slipped out, though. She took things too seriously or too far, and soon she ended up alone.

But that was okay, because that’s how it always began. An outcast, a loner - downtrodden by society and overlooked by everyone until there he was. Her prince. Her lack of friends left with her with plenty of time not only to study and learn and read but to think and imagine about what he would be like. He would be tall and handsome and noble. He would see her, across a ballroom or a marketplace or - even better - a library, and he would truly see her, for all that she was. Everyone else in the crowd would fade away until it was just the two of them. He wouldn’t notice her curly hair or large teeth or worn clothes. He would see her beauty and they would know that it was true love. Hermione just had to wait until he arrived to take her away.

***

Her prince didn’t come. She spent much of primary school alone and lonely, the only hope coming from the promise of secondary school. That would be a serious place of learning. That is where her peers would get over this temporary, childish nonsense. Hermione dedicated herself to her studies - the one, logical thing she could rely on in this confusing world.

She got the scholarship. Of course she did. Hermione was destined for Great Things and those things began with a quality education. As she studied the class schedules and school history of the prestigious institution, everything seemed to click into place.

A cat who was also a witch who was also a professor threw Hermione's world off kilter, with her arrival and her letter saying the things Hermione was destined for were great, yes, but magical too.

Hermione did her best to rationalise it, this thing that resisted any sense of reason. Maybe that was why she had always felt different, been different. She wasn’t just meant to be surrounded by people who shared her love of learning, but she was meant to be surrounded by magic.

(At least, that was what she told herself.)

So Hermione did what she did best. Adjusted her hypothesis, threw herself into research. She needed to be prepared. There was so much she didn’t know.

She didn’t know that the two boys on a train would become her best friends. One with a scar and the grimiest glasses she had ever seen, the other with bright red hair and dirt on his nose. That they would go through the absolute best and worst times of their lives together. That she would love them more than she thought possible, more than anyone told her she was able to.

But we’re not quite there. Yet.

***

With some time, distance, and clarity gained from reflection and therapy, Hermione would come to describe her adolescence as frustrating. The history and culture of Hogwarts was endlessly fascinating, the subjects she was privileged to take captivating, and daily life a constant wonder. But the structure of education left much to be desired. The responsibility and awareness of staff lacking. The fact that her best friend and, subsequently, her and everyone she knew were in constant danger? Frankly traumatising.

Despite Hermione’s wishes and hopes and dreams, secondary school was still secondary school, no matter how magical you were. There was drama and gossip and most unfortunately, romance. She didn’t like it. More importantly, she didn’t understand it, and it didn’t seem like something one could learn in books, no matter how much she tried.

***

Somehow, she survived. Both school and a war and adolescence. Ron’s brief fling with Lavender and Harry’s obsession with Draco and Parvati giggling, always, about the new cute boy of the week, the sound of which filled their dorm. She survived the worst camping trip in the history of human existence, an evil, inhuman fascist dictator, Death Eaters, curses, threats on her life, a battle. Hermione got through it all. She made it.

On the other side she was exhausted. They all were. They seemed to walk around in a daze, as if nothing was truly real, and they flinched at the smallest of sounds. At some point she snapped out of it, showered for an entire hour, and began the monumental task of tracking down and organising magical mental health services.

Ron moved back in with his family, as he wanted to be close to them after losing Fred. Hermione wanted to reverse the charm on her parents but simply wasn’t in the right frame of mind to do it. So she moved in with Harry and banned him from signing up for the Aurors until he settled on a career that wouldn't continue to traumatise him. Honestly, boys.

As Harry began to heal he and Ron resumed their all too familiar dance, spinning around each other like stars in orbit. Hermione only seemed to sink further into the ground and her stomach turned to rolling waves of cement.

Nausea plagued her constantly. This thing, this weight in her stomach became her constant companion. She was undeniably stressed - even she had some ability to take in the situation - but it appeared to have no source. No origin. No explanation.

Hermione knew there was always an answer. Even if she herself did not know it yet.

She told her therapist as much, and together they broke down her symptoms into manageable pieces and the circumstances in which they were strongest.

Harry and Ron. That’s what they kept returning to.

For a while Hermione refuted it. How could her friends, her brothers, cause her to worry so much?

Then Harry told her that he had an announcement.

He sat her down on their worn sofa. Told her that he and Ron were together. In _that_ way. Romantically. In love.

She burst into tears and promptly apparated away.

Possibly not the best reaction to have to suppose good news.

When Hermione’s vision cleared up as her tears abided, she realised she had arrived in the children’s section of her childhood public library. Bugger.

A young kid stared up at her, wide-eyed over the top of their book at her sudden appearance. She didn’t have the energy to care about the Statute at a time like this, so she put a finger to her lip, winked with fake joy, and disappeared once more. It would most likely be fine.

She got a hold of herself and ended up in the park down the road from their flat. Much more sensible. Hermione sat down on a bench and did what she did best - thought.

She was partially afraid that this meant the end of an era. Their trio would be a couple-plus-one, and she would be the third wheel never needed. That she would be alone, again, like always. Like it was inevitable.

But that wasn’t everything. She felt isolated, yes, and set apart from Harry-and-Ron as they were, but also different.

Hermione didn’t understand.

She got the fact that they liked each other, craved each other’s affection and company, wanted commitment and to spend the foreseeable future with one another. She vaguely understood the more physical components of a relationship like that, too. But that was it. It was like she was ten all over again, reduced to the ignorance of childhood.

What were the butterflies people spoke about? What crush was there to be had?

When had she felt heart flutters, outside of the stress of war? When had she ever organically daydreamed about someone without forcing herself to? When had she ever wanted anyone to notice her, for anything other than her academic achievements or the potential of friendship? Had she ever actually craved that one thing that all little girls were supposed to grow up wishing for - a wedding?

That could be the only explanation. The only possibility. Hermione lacked the _something_ that made everyone feel that way.

But she seemed to be the only one like this. Even her peers who had been nowhere near dating had talked about it, thought about it, gossiped about it.

And a series of experiences and feelings weren’t enough. They were too nebulous, intangible. Indescribable. Hermione couldn’t pin it down and that was endlessly frustrating.

Hopefully, maybe, there was a word for this. Despite everything, despite the rarity. Perhaps it was out there, waiting for her to find.

Hermione cast a discreet tempus to check if she had a moment to sneak back into her own library but swore at the time as it appeared. She was almost late for her therapy appointment.

She leaped up from the bench and quickly walked down the path to apparate from behind a tree. It was a mostly magical neighbourhood, but she couldn't help but worry. Hermione took the moment to breathe and to focus. She couldn’t splinch herself on top of everything else.

***

Hermione tried not to fidget too much as she strode into the office and greeted the receptionist. Sarah was apparently already ready so she walked in and closed the door carefully behind her.

“Hello, Hermione.”

“Hi,” she said breathlessly and perched on the edge of the sofa.

Sarah gave a small smile. “First, is there anything in particular that you want to discuss?”

Hermione picked at a thread in her skirt. “Well. Yes. Um, earlier today - possibly an hour ago, I’m not quite sure - Harry sat me down and told me that he had news. The news was that he and Ron are together. Romantically. And instead of acting like any good friend should, I started crying and ran out. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should be happy for them, shouldn’t I?”

As Hermione recounted this Sarah wrote something down on her pad of paper, then looked back up.

“That was a lot of ‘shoulds’, Hermione. How about we start at the beginning, with Harry telling you the news?”

***

Soon enough Hermione had explained the cycle of emotions she had gone through as she reflected on the announcement. They arrived at her current conclusion - that something was wrong with her. Or in Sarah’s words, different.

“I think I know what may be going on, but I want you to listen to me give the full explanation before you say anything, alright? If it’s not accurate to your experience, we’ll move on and find something else, but I want to try this out first. Is that okay?”

Hermione nodded slowly as she wondered what Sarah could possibly say next that would suddenly fix any of this.

“With what you’ve described, Hermione, I believe that you may be something called aromantic. Have you heard of that term before?” Sarah asked gently.

The whole of her mouth had turned to sand, so she simply shook her head in response.

“That's perfectly fine. It means that a person doesn’t experience romantic attraction. Like many things, it’s a spectrum, so some aromantic people might be attracted to a few people throughout their life, or be attracted infrequently, or never at all. The things we’ve talked about - crushes, physical affection, commitment, various fantasising - these can all be an expression of romantic attraction that people feel towards another person or people.”

“Oh.”

Hermione stared at the light brown skin of her palms as she let the information sink in. Aromantic. Not romantic. Someone who doesn’t experience romantic attraction.

It was her.

“But if I am… aromantic, doesn’t that mean I’m broken? Doesn’t everyone want a romantic relationship?”

“Do they?” Sarah countered.

Hermione blushed and looked back down, thoroughly chastised.

“No, Hermione, you’re not broken. You aren’t broken for feeling or not feeling certain things," Sarah said patiently. "Just because society has established expectations for people’s life paths, doesn’t make them realistic, achievable, or the most valid.”

Oh.

***

The rest of the session was spent by Sarah explaining aromanticism further. The variety of people’s experiences, the different shapes platonic relationships could take. Hermione couldn’t help but kick herself a little for all the assumptions she had been putting on herself and others. There was so much to learn, and unlearn as well.

They finished up with discussing strategies of how and when to tell people. Hermione wanted to tell Harry and Ron as soon as she could. She felt like she owed them an explanation, and wanted to get it out in the open. She couldn’t hide anything from them.

Sarah gave her some more resources to look at later, and reminded her of the self-care kit she had made a while ago. Hermione was not-so-gently encouraged to practice some once she returned home.

Only a few minutes and Hermione was out the door and apparated away, back to the flat.

***

It took a second for Harry and Ron to realise Hermione was actually there in the living room. They jumped up and ran to her, though Harry held Ron back from sweeping her into a hug.

The red-head looked down at him with a furrowed brow but Harry paid him no mind.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, hesitation clear in his voice.

She twirled a strand of hair around and around her finger. “Hi.”

“I kinda want to ask if you’re okay, but that’s a bit stupid isn’t it?”

Ron looked between them both and gave an exasperated sigh.

“Merlin’s balls, Hermione, you scared us. Harry floo’d me as soon as you bolted. What the hell happened?”

Harry bit his lip at the demand. “Ron…”

“I just want to know, Har’,” he said honestly.

Hermione tried to swallow down some of her bubbling nervousness. “Um. Of course. Could we sit down?”

Ron nodded and the boys moved to the nearby sofa. She remained standing. Harry and Ron's hands were joined and Hermione fixed her gaze on the back of the sofa between them. How was she to begin?

“I know that wasn’t the reaction you were hoping for. Either of you. And I’m sorry if I scared you at all, but I’m sure you realise I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak again but she shook her head. She had to get through this.

“I’ve been speaking with Sarah about feeling worse about certain things and, well, this was the final straw. Clearly,” Hermione continued.

“Are you in love with me?” Ron blurted out.

Harry groaned at his boyfriend’s foolishness. “Ron!”

“What?” he asked, unsure as to the protest. “Oh, sorry. Are you in love with Harry?”

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“What!? It’s a decent enough question.”

Hermione’s hands fell to her hips and she rolled her eyes. What a day it had been.

“I’m aromantic.”

One could hear a doxy egg drop, the silence was so thick in the room. Hermione felt like she was flying now that she had said the words - mostly terrified, with an undercurrent of elation. It was out there and she couldn’t take it back.

All three of them absorbed the declaration for a few moments, then Harry cleared his throat. “I think we might need a bit more explanation, Hermione.”

She nodded, having expected as such. It clearly wasn’t a common term with the lengths she had to go to find it.

“I’m aromantic. As in, not experiencing romantic attraction. Or ever experiencing it. Crushes or dating or anything is just… not for me. Not something I’ve ever felt. Or will ever feel.”

It wasn’t the most accurate or eloquent explanation but it was as composed as she could be at the moment. Hermione suddenly felt incredibly fragile, like she was breaking at the seams. What would she do if they rejected her?

Everything about her had always been so apparent, so obvious. The colour of her skin and the size of her hair and her teeth and her academic pursuits. Hermione realised that she had never had to come out to anyone about anything, other than being a witch.

It was the most scared she had felt in a long, long time.

Ron and Harry looked at each other and silently communicated like they had always done. They seemed to reach a decision and Harry stood up from the sofa and walked towards Hermione.

When he was only a few centimetres away he stopped. “Can I still hug you?” he asked as his hands flexed at his sides.

The question felt like the sun had come out after a long winter.

Hermione had become speechless with emotion so had to nod again. Once, twice, three times - she couldn’t stop her head from shaking. Harry smiled softly and crossed the distance to pull her close.

She melted into the embrace, into the relief. How had she expected anything less from Harry, the man who had fought for them all?

Hermione felt a third hand on her back and startled, but it was only Ron. The tears that had threatened to spill over started to stream down her face as he wrapped them both in his arms.

She smiled against Harry’s shoulder but couldn’t stop the thoughts in her head.

“So you don’t hate me?” she whispered.

Harry squeezed her tighter. “Never, Hermione. Nothing could make me,” Harry answered fiercely, ever the Gryffindor.

“Nothing short of you becoming a Death Eater, anyway,” added Ron into the top of her head.

Hermione gave a small, wet snort at that.

“Nah, ‘mione. Could never hate you when I love you so much,” he continued in a soft voice. It was rare for him to display such obvious emotion, and Hermione felt herself get choked up again.

“I love you too, Ron.” Hermione extracted one arm and wrapped it around him. “I love you, Harry,” she said and squeezed at Harry’s waist.

“Love you, Hermione,” replied Harry.

The three of them stood there for a long while. Friendship and bravery were the most important things, after all.

***

Harry and Ron eventually moved out together. Got engaged, then married. Adopted Teddy a couple of years before the young metamorphagus started at Hogwarts.

Her various friends and relations began to start a variety of “grown up” (and not so grown up, if they were honest) jobs. They settled into more permanent relationships. Got married, thought about having children. Hermione spent her time on her career and friends and books and self.

People talked about her love life, or lack thereof. Despite all she achieved, despite the progress of witches, her apparently “missing” partner was still relevant conversation. She was “never going to get a man with that career” and despite what critics had to say - or worse, "well-meaning" people with free “advice” - that suited Hermione just fine.

Her life was so full. There was no void that ached inside of her. Hermione had so many wonderful things, including her two dearest friends. She considered herself very lucky.

They still had sleepovers, sometimes. Her and Harry and Ron. Just like their camping trip, but without the trauma and with the added comfort of modern furnishings. They would cast an extension charm on the mattress, enchant the ceiling to look like the night sky, and pile in together under the blankets. Nights would be spent talking and giggling and cuddling together in comfortable silence. It was wonderful.

Most of the time it was her and Hypatia, Crookshank’s successor. She adopted the kneazle-cross a few years after Crookshanks had passed and Harry had moved out. She wasn’t lonely, most of the time, but the flat to herself was so different afters years of living with someone.

Hypatia was Hermione’s constant companion whenever she was at home and loved to curl up on her lap as she read. Much better than Crookshanks, in Ron's opinion, though Hermione said she loved them both equally.

Hermione knew she was loved. She felt it in a thousand different ways. A two letter word to prelude the emotion was unnecessary and unneeded.

Her prince had never arrived to save her from the monotony of life. It was probably for the best, if she were honest. Books hardly measured up to the magic of reality and, if she had learned anything about men with power, it was that most of those guys were absolute wankers.

Hermione gave and received so much love. It was a weapon, and a gift. One she would handle with ink-stained fingers as best she could, for as long as she could.

And she would live happily ever after. She just knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> I am forever grateful for each and every kudos and comment, so feel free to leave either (or both!). I haven't written any other aro fic in the HP universe but check out my works if you're into GO or rarry, I have both.


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